


Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life, Too

by TheRomanDisaster



Category: The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Doomsday Never Happened, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Nobody Dies, Prom, Relationship(s), Romance, Zia Rashid Gets Transferred From the First Nome to the Twenty-First Nome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRomanDisaster/pseuds/TheRomanDisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take my hand,<br/>Take my whole life, too<br/>Because I can’t help falling in love with you.<br/>I can’t help falling in love with you.</p><p>Because I<br/>can’t help<br/>falling in love<br/>with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life, Too

**Author's Note:**

> SO UM THIS IS A BIRTHDAY GIFT TO TIARA / ROBINTEHEVOCAT ON DA AND ROBINFLIGHT-Y ON TUMBLR (actually i think you disabled your tumblr but uh that's sad) AND THIS IS KIND OF MAYBE LATE AND I'M SORRY FOR THAT AND I DON'T THINK YOU REMEMBER BUT YOU WANTED A ZIA/CARTER THING AND I WAS LIKE "OMG!! I MISS THEM SO MUCH" AND SINCE AUGUST I'VE BEEN TRYING TO WRITE THIS I HAVE SO MANY DRABBLES OF THEM. I TRIED WRITING A SOULMATE AU. I TRIED WRITING A POKEMON AU. I TRIED WRITING A LYNBURG LEGACY AU (that didn't work out v well) BUT IN THE END END HERE IS A CANON DIVERGENCE - NOBODY DIES, DOOMSDAY NEVER HAPPENED, ZIA RASHID MOVES TO THE TWENTYFIRST NOME FIC. I HOPE YOU ENJOY. ILYSM THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING.
> 
> THIS IS ALSO THE FIRST TIME I FANFIC'D WITHOUT ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN LIKE, A YEAR???? SO!!

He’s Carter Kane and he’s fifteen years old and his life is as normal as it can get – his parents reside in the Land of the Dead and his father is the host of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, he lives with twenty to thirty other kids in a mansion in Brooklyn, New York, studying deadly magic in his free time and pretty much staying alive, and he goes to school. 

Because that’s totally normal for a fifteen-year-old teenager like him.

So when his uncle stands before the other magicians of Brooklyn House and announces that they will have a transfer from the First Nome in Egypt, someone who wants to study the Path of Ra, he dismisses it, because though transfers are uncommon, they aren’t rare, and the transfer from Egypt is just another normal magician wanting to study the Path of the Gods.

There are, like, fifteen other kids in Brooklyn House who are studying the Paths of the Gods.

One more can be hardly considered a nuisance to his otherwise normal routine.

* * *

But when he meets the transfer for the first time, he can’t help but feel that his life is going to be different from that point on.

The new transfer is a girl with skin the color of caramel and eyes the same shade that amber is and short black hair cut along her sharp jawline and she’s pretty, he thinks, he would be lying if he said otherwise. Though she walks with a confident composure and her expression looks proud, stubborn, even, he can sense the uncertainty in her movements, as if she isn’t sure if she belongs here just yet.

His younger sister Sadie is walking her around the third floor and she looks as if she is in a hurry. When Sadie sees him, she seems to beam. “Carter!” she calls, causing the new transfer to glance over at his direction. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t look his best – he just came from the second floor, where Felix and Khufu and Julian and a couple of other initiates were playing four-on-four basketball. Needless to say, he’s drenched in sweat and he’s exhausted and he looks like a mess.

 _I have the_ worst _timing_ , he thinks to himself when the girl nods at him and says, “Zia Rashid. I transferred from the First Nome.” She looks down at his hand as if she’s questioning whether or not to shake his hand, but decides not to because one, he’s holding a basketball, and two, his palms are _evidently_ sweaty.

“Carter,” he smiles, dismayed when she doesn’t smile back, “Welcome to Brooklyn House.”

“Sorry to just kind of pile this on to you, but I’m _really_ late for a hangout with Walt,” Sadie tells him. Carter raises his eyebrows at the word _hangout_. “Could you maybe show her where her room is?”

“No problem,” he tells her, “But you owe me for this.”

Sadie sticks her tongue out at him and he and Zia watch as she dashes upstairs to the rooftop where Walt is probably waiting by the chariot that’s pulled by Freak, the resident griffin of Brooklyn House, the main mode of transportation by the initiates of the Twenty-First Nome.

“It should be at the end of the hall,” says Carter. She nods once again, and he can’t help but think, _Jeez, she’s a hard nut to crack_ when she once again does not smile at him back. It’s awkward enough walking with her to her room, so he tries to make conversation with her, though it does not help: “How do you like Brooklyn House so far?”

She frowns at him. “I’ve only been here for an hour, maybe less. I can’t really judge.”

“Oh,” he supposes that she’s right. “You’ll love it here, really,” he says weakly, and his tone of voice – awkward, uncertain, how it usually is around girls as intimidating and as beautiful as Zia Rashid – doesn’t really support his case. “Everyone’s close to each other in age, so we treat each other like a really big family. There’s about twenty-five of us, maybe thirty, and the head of the nome is my Uncle Amos and–”

“And the baboon?” she asks.

He almost forgets about Khufu for a second. “Has Khufu been giving you any trouble?”

“ _Khufu_ was eating an armadillo when Sadie introduced me to him,” she shrugs, as if she has seen weirder things, and before he can explain his penchant for eating things that end with o, she says, “And you have a griffin. And a three-thousand-pound albino crocodile.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. “My uncle … loves animals?”

And at that, she manages a chuckle, and even though it only lasts for a second, he can’t help but feel accomplished. He wants to talk to her, ask her about the First Nome – he’d always wanted to visit, but Uncle Amos  never brings him when he meets with the Chief Lector, because Brooklyn House needs a responsible student to watch over the younger kids” – but their time together is over when they step in front of her room.

She turns to him and thanks him for leading her to her room, _actually smiling at him_ as she says so, causing him to blush a little and say, “It’s no problem. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Of course,” she tells him.

He doesn’t stop thinking about her smile even after she’s closed the door on his face.

* * *

She shows up in the training room to attend his Magic Problem-Solving 101 class the day after, and she watches, impressed, as one of the younger, newer initiates destroyed a _shabti_ of a giant scorpion singlehandedly with dozens of blasts of lightning from a cloud she conjured up.

He pretends not to notice when she walks up to him, heels of her boots pounding against the hardwood floor of the training room. “So this is the way you teach your initiates magic?” she asks him, an eyebrow raised. He turns to look at her and his heartbeat totally doesn’t begin to speed up when he takes in the sight of her, the faint smell of jasmine wafting his surroundings.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugs, “You can’t really learn magic sitting in a classroom taking notes, can you?”

She shakes her head. “If that is the case, then I would not know. I’ve never attended a regular American high school or been to a regular classroom, which is not a surprise, really, considering the fact that I’ve lived in the First Nome in Egypt my entire life.”

He nodded in understanding. Carter knew how it felt, considering that less than a month ago, he was traveling around the world, being homeschooled by his dad. He never knew what it was like to attend a “regular American high school” or sit in a “regular classroom” until his father died and his Uncle Amos brought him to Brooklyn House. Now he attends the Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted with the other initiates and gets a taste of what it’s like to be a normal teenager.

“Your first day is tomorrow, isn’t it?” he asks, and she nods. “It’s not so bad, really.”

“I find socializing to be difficult,” she says, pursing her lips.

“You’re socializing with me,” he points out.

“That’s different. You are easy to talk to.”

He hides the blush forming in his cheeks, because if he isn’t mistaken, she just complimented him. He could get used to this, he thinks. The two of them are quiet for a while when he doesn’t reply – so much for being easy to talk to – and it is only when he snaps himself into reality as the tension between them grows stronger does he think of something to say.

“Now,” he clears his throat, “what did you say you specialized in again?”

Her eyes seem to light up when she begins to tell Carter about her skill as an elementalist, her love for the art of Fire Magic, her passion to follow the path of the sun god Khepri-Ra.

He thinks that she’s pretty when she gets excited.   

* * *

Carter tries to find her during lunch at school the day after, maybe ask her how her day is going so far, offer to help her if she needs help finding her classes, but it’s a big school and even when he asks the other initiates when he sees them in their little groups, they shake their head and tell him no, they haven’t seen her.

He finds her eventually, sees her through the glass walls of their library, scowling at a book about ancient Egypt. He rushes to the entrance, only to be shushed by the library volunteer by the circulation desk, and he slows his footsteps. She notices him as soon as he pulls up a chair beside her and sits next to her, but she glues her eyes back to the text on the book after a second of looking at him.

He looks at her, really looks at her, even admires the way she curls her bottom lip to the side when she’s in deep concentration and the graceful way she’d lined her eyelids with kohl and how it frames her amber eyes so perfectly. She is, hands down, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. There is no debate there.

“My dad wrote that book,” he blurts out when he recognizes the cover. Frowning, she closes the book and re-reads the cover. _Can Egyptian Magic Really Kill You?_ , she reads, _written by Dr. Julius Kane_.

“It’s interesting,” she tells him. “He isn’t in Brooklyn House, is he? I would have seen him around, if he was.”

He words and rewords the sentence he is about to say in his head before telling her. He doesn’t know if he can tell her, doesn’t know if he wants her to know, doesn’t want her to pity him like everyone does when they find out that he’s dead, so he tells her the version of the story that is much more believable to magicians like him: “He’s in the Land of the Dead now, the host of Osiris after an accident in the British Museum last year. He and my mom are.”

She seems to nod in understanding. After being quiet for what seemed like the longest time for Carter, she says, “I know how that feels.”

There’s something between them – something that’s beginning to click together, like a puzzle piece. It’s strange, but he feels something when he’s with her. He’s never really felt like this with anyone else before, so the fact that it’s with Zia, someone he has only met two days prior … he doesn’t know what to think about it.

She shakes her head, getting up so quickly that she almost trips on her own feet. “I need to go. I need to find my next class before lunch ends, which I think is in a couple of minutes.”

“I could help,” Carter suggests, only for her to shake her head.

“No!” she says a bit too quickly. “I mean, no, I would … I would much rather find it myself.”

And without even returning the book to where its proper place in the shelves, she grabs her bookbag and stalks away, grumbling something about the lack of _shabti_ in the school as well as in the library.

* * *

Zia then proceeds to ignore him for the next couple of days, which is unfortunate, because he likes talking to her, he really does.

He’s glad to see that she’s made friends in Brooklyn House – she’s grown closer to Sadie, his annoying magician sister who follows the Path of Isis; Alyssa, an earth elementalist following the Path of Geb; Jaz, a healer following the Path of Sekhmet, and Cleo, the magician slash librarian who follows the Path of Thoth. He sees them in the common room watching television shows and laughing at each other’s jokes and doing homework and even training together and at one point, Sadie had invited Zia to go shopping with her, and it must be nice for her, Carter thinks, to finally get a taste of what life as a normal teenager, not having to worry about monster attacks all the time and going to school and going shopping.

He looks up from his calculus homework and glances up to realize that it’s thirty minutes past eleven and they are the only two left in the common room. The other initiates have retreated back into their quarters to get ready for school tomorrow. Zia looks up to meet his gaze, only for her to look down a millisecond later, suddenly _very_ interested in her homework.

 _Should I talk to her_? he asks himself. He should talk to her. But she’s the one who’s been ignoring him ever since the incident with the library, which leaves him wondering if he’s said something weird or outright wrong or personal. Or maybe she finds him to be a nuisance. He’d expected it. He always stammers when he’s around her, and takes a while to reply because he’s so busy trying figure out the right thing to say and–

“Carter,” she glances up to meet his gaze, chewing down on her lip and clicking and unclicking her pen uncertainly – something he does when he’s nervous. “Help me with this?”

He shoots up to his feet and walks to the other end of the room, sitting on the empty spot beside her on the couch, peering over her shoulder to look at her notes, scrawled in a neat cursive writing. “What do you need help with?”

She frowns at her notes. “I’m not sure, really. Our chemistry unit’s more complicated than I could think to handle – something about chemical bonds and equilibrium and thermodynamics and acids and bases and by the gods, this can get complex…” she trails off with a sigh. “I am an elementalist following the Path of the sun god Khepri-Ra and I can’t even get through regular mortal high school. I really am not looking forward to repeating year nine.”

“It’s simple enough, my dad taught me this a year ago,” he says without thinking. When he mentions his Egyptian magician turned god of the dead father, Zia seems to purse her lips.  

“Do you miss them?” she asks. “Your parents?”

He thinks about them. Remembers the house in Los Angeles in the hills overlooking the Pacific and the way the stars looked at night from the back porch overlooking the ocean. His dad told he and Sadie the stories and legends and myths behind each and every constellation he could identify, and Carter always thought they were bizarre. He doesn’t anymore. He remembers the way he and Sadie would sit on the sofa and talk about physics and chemistry and astronomy and everything in between.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment of silence. “Terribly. Do you miss yours?”

She bites down on her lower lip. “I do, but I fear that I don’t remember them.” When he stares at her blankly, she explains, “All I know … is that my father was a farmer. In his spare time, he’d scour the desert for artifacts and new sites where they might want to dig. One night when I was eight, my father found a statue,” she says. “Small but very rare: a statue of a monster. He didn’t know ... He didn’t realize magicians imprison monsters and spirits inside such statues, and break them to destroy their essence. My father brought the unbroken statue into our village, and ... and accidentally unleashed...” she trails off.

“Zia,” Carter says gently, causing her to look up to meet his gaze, “I’m sorry.”

“The one who found me – He’s the Chief Lector Iskandar. He tells me about my past, gives me pictures, explains what happens. But I still…” she sighs. “It is difficult to remember.”

In that moment, Carter realizes how lucky he is. Though his parents are in the Land of the Dead, he still remembers them, ever so clearly, and he can still talk to them, if he wants to. Zia has no memory of her parents. Pictures, yes, from what she mentioned, and explanations about what happened, but she doesn’t remember her parents like Carter remembers his.

He’s about to say something, about to comfort her, maybe, if he finds the right words, but then she clears her throat. “If you could explain how chemical thermodynamics works, then that would be very much appreciated, because I have a test of some sorts in twelve hours.”

He nods, and with tentative fingers, he reaches for her notes and slips out a pen from his pocket. _Carter Kane_ , Sadie would say _, ever the Boy Scout_.

Carter stays up until three in the morning with her, explaining chemical thermodynamics and equilibrium. She falls asleep with her head on his shoulder in the middle of his talk about acids and bases and he doesn’t want to move, so this is how he stays and this is how Sadie and the other initiates find the two of them when they come down for breakfast.

Talk about embarrassing, Carter thinks.

* * *

Sadie has noticed that there is something between them since day one, when Carter kept glancing over her direction at the dinner table. It is only much, much later when she decides to interrogate her brother about his relationship with Zia.

She storms in his room through the adjoining door and collapses beside him on his bed and watches him play _Fire Emblem Awakening_ , one of the many games that came with his room in Brooklyn House. “So,” she says, “Wanna pause that and maybe tell me exactly what’s going on with you and Zia?”

Carter hits pause, throws aside his controller, and sends a curious stare at his sister’s way. “It isn’t that obvious, is it?”

Sadie laughs. Honest to goodness _laughs_. “Obvious? You practically have ‘I have a crush on Zia Rashid’ painted in red on your forehead.”

Carter frowns. He likes to think that his crush on her isn’t _that_ obvious. “At least tell me that she has no idea.”

Slowly, the smile fades from Sadie’s face and she’s suddenly interested in playing with the purple streaks on her blond hair. “You know, she’s just as new to this as you are. I don’t have a handle on her, but I have the feeling that she’s closed off, too scared to trust people. She’s oblivious to the fact that you fancy her.”

Carter thinks about it. “I should tell her, shouldn’t I?”

Sadie seems to beam. “You’re actually _willingly_ asking me for love advice! That girl has _practically_ lit a fire in your heart, hasn’t she!”

“I asked _one_ question–” Carter protests, but Sadie is hearing none of it and rambles on about how he should so take her out on a date and gives him tips on how to dress and reminds him once, twice, thrice to pay for everything and maybe, just maybe, he would get a kiss on the cheek from her.

A kiss from Zia Rashid.

He likes the sound of that. 

* * *

The next time he sees her it is at seven in the evening. His hair is sopping wet because of the fact he just stepped out of the shower after an intense basketball game with Felix and Walt and Julian and the others. She graces him with the smallest of smiles when they lock gazes, and that is when Carter realizes that the entire common room is silent.

And suddenly, everyone files out of the room, leaving excuses as they exited the common room. ‘I need to finish up my math homework,’ says Alyssa. ‘I have a date I need to prepare for,’ says Julian. ‘I have an, um, new book to read, see you,’ says Cleo. Sadie simply smirks at him as she leaves hand in hand with a Walt, practically saying ‘Go ask her out!’ with her eyes.

And in two minutes, the only people left in the common room are Zia and him, and everything is quiet except for the sounds of Philip the albino crocodile splashing around in the swimming pool on the terrace.

“Finally some quiet time,” Zia says with a laugh, her eyes shining as she glances up at him.

“We can get loud during dinner,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed at this point.”

“I have.” she agrees. And the silence that follows is almost unbearable, because he wants to ask her out, take her out on a date to the movies or the mall or wherever, but he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how he can say, ‘Hey, I’ve liked you ever since I’ve laid my eyes on you. It would be great, if you went out on a date with me, maybe–’

“Would you find it weird if I told you that I was scared of the end-of-the-term exams that are coming up in a few days?” asks Zia when they’ve been quiet for too long.

Carter manages a laugh. “You’re a fire specialist from the First Nome following the Path of Khepri-Ra. You’ve faced far worse than end-of-the-term exams.”

“That much is true,” she says. “It would be great if all the initiates of Brooklyn House could do a little … something after the exams. Spend time with each other. Bond. Get to know each other. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

And suddenly, an idea begins to form in his head. This could just work, Carter thinks, and he prays to Horus that this works out the way he wants it to go.

“Actually,” he begins. When he speaks, Zia looks at him curiously with those beautiful amber eyes and he’s almost tempted to back off because there’s a ninety-nine per cent chance that she might already have someone to go with, but he prepares himself to ask her, anyway, because if he doesn’t take this chance, then he will be cursing himself for the rest of his life. “All the other initiates are already planning to attend this event, except it’s in school.”

“That sounds interesting,” she tells him, “What is it?”

“It’s the winter formal, and it’s next Friday, when all the exams are over and when you ace your exams–”

“I would bet anyone money that I won’t.”

“–I’m going to take you to the winter formal.”

Zia blinks at him, dumbfounded. “The winter formal? For what reason?”

“To hang out,” Carter tells her, “We’ll dance and listen to the music and see who gets crowned the king and queen of the formal and drink awful punch and eat some snacks and hang out with the other initiates. And it’s going to be fun.”

Zia begins to smile. “Is this what you would call a date?”

 _She isn’t as oblivious as Sadie says she is_ , Carter thinks as a blush rises to his cheeks. “I–If you think of it that way, then I suppose … yes?”

And she laughs. Honest to goodness _laughs_. “I accept your invitation,” she says, wistful smile gracing her ruby red lips. “I will look forward to this _date_ , Carter Kane.”

He can’t help but smile himself. “And as will I, Miss Zia Rashid.” 

* * *

The day of the dance comes along and Carter Kane finds himself hand-in-hand with his date, standing in front of the gymnasium after making sure Freak the griffin is tightly secured on the roof of the school and that he won’t be threatening any mortals anytime soon.

 _Remember everything Sadie’s told you_ , he reminds himself. The rose – check. His hair – not as messy and disheveled as it usually is. A suit and tie – check. His sword just in case a monster crashes the dance – check. He has everything he needs. He can practically hear Sadie’s advice ringing through his ears – _be a gentleman, hold open doors for her, for the love of the gods, don’t drive her to the winter formal in a chariot pulled by a griffin_. (That’s definitely something he ignored, because a chariot pulled by Freak tops any limo any day.)

He’s got this.

When he and Zia enter the gymnasium, Carter thinks that the student committee that organized the winter formal really have outdone themselves this time.

Because it actually looks nice, he has to admit. Usually, the school gymnasium reeks of sweat and usually has a class or two hurling dodgeballs at each other, but it’s different now that it’s decorated for the winter formal. Blue and silver balloons are hung up with streamers of the same color in the four walls of the gym. A disco ball shines above them and a live band is playing a song that Sadie blasts out loud from the stereo in the common room a lot more often that she should, much to the annoyance of the other initiates. The students of Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted are already in dance mode, and when Carter looks at Zia, he sees that her face is a mask of disgust, seeing as the dancing could be hardly considered … appropriate.

“If you’re going to invite me to dance right now, I would like to politely decline,” Zia tells him over the noise of the crowds as they watch the Brooklyn House initiates dancing or begging the band to change the song or getting some food or drinking some punch.

“Not right now, no.” he says, turning towards her. She laughs, and he still can’t believe that _Zia Rashid_ had actually agreed to be his date to the winter formal. Bravely, Zia takes his hand in hers, and Carter can practically feel twenty other guys’ envious glares sent at his direction. Because she looks _great_ when she dresses up – not that Carter had expected differently, considering she always looks great. Her short hair is curled and her kohl-lidded amber eyes are shining brighter than ever before and she’s wearing a simple white dress of beige linen and black sandals and a gold scarab necklace.

Carter had been awed when he picked her up from her room in Brooklyn House.

By the name of the gods, he still is.

“So is this what regular teenagers do in winter formals?” asks Zia. “Just stand in the corner of the gymnasium, holding their date’s hand?”

“From what I’ve seen in the movies, not really,” Carter admits. “Most teenagers just dance–”

He cuts himself off when the lead singer of the band stops mid-song, and so do the instrumentalists. The other kids in the dance floor stop dancing, and they look up at the stage curiously. The lead singer taps the microphone as if to test it, sending feedback from the speakers. “Because of the insistence of like, thirty plus kids, we’ve decided to change it up a little bit,” says the vocalist, a large grin on his face, “Pick a partner. Grab someone’s hand. Because this next one is slow.”

The guitarist on the stage starts it off by playing a slow fingerpicking pattern as the kids find their partners. Carter turns to his date. “My mom and dad used to dance to this song all the time,” he tells her, “Would you like to give it a try?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t know how to dance,” she admits sheepishly, rosy blush spreading to her cheeks.

Carter can’t help but smile at her. She’s so adorable, he thinks. “Don’t worry,” he says in an attempt to soothe her, “I don’t either, but I’ve mentioned how Sadie’s idea of fun was forcing me to watch high school romance-comedies with her on Netflix, right? I’ve watched multiple dance scenes before. It can’t be that hard.”

“And besides,” he continues, “In a way, dancing is like … like magic. You can’t learn magic by sitting in a classroom and taking notes. You have to do it for yourself. So,” he gestures towards the dance floor, where multiple other couples – Julian and Cleo, Sean and Alyssa, Paul and Jaz, Sadie and Walt – are slow-dancing with each other.

He offers his hand out to her. “Would you like to?”

Zia smiles and, with a nod, she takes his hand. Without another word, he leads her to the centre of the dance floor. As a disco ball shines over them and the live band their school hired plays a rendition of the classic his parents used to dance to all the time – the song _Can’t Help Falling in Love_ by Elvis Presley – he places a hand on her waist and she presses herself against him and places a hand on his shoulder.

Needless to say, dancing with her was awkward. Zia keeps stepping on his feet and his palms are sweaty and both of them are nervous but the grins never leave their faces and when he spins her around, he inhales the smell of her cinnamon-scented perfume and their smiles are bigger than ever and he’s never experienced a moment so perfect.

Just as the vocalist begins the chorus, she balances herself on the edge of her toes and presses a kiss to his lips. His eyes widen in surprise – he’d wanted this, though he’d never expected it to happen – only to close them when he kisses her back.

It’s a moment he remembers for the rest of his life.

* * *

__  
Take my hand,  
_Take my whole life, too_  
_Because I can’t help falling in love with you.  
_ _I can’t help falling in love with you._

_Because I_  
_can’t help_  
_falling in love  
_ _with you._


End file.
